I Don't Want to Fall in Love... With You

Emily drove me to her house after school in her sparkly purple Renault Cleo. She'd had it for barely over a month and already it smelled of her, somehow not remaining any stench of the fast food she bought far too frequently. The pungent scent of honeysuckle and lemon burned through my nostrils every time.

"You shouldn't worry about that test, Anya. Even if you do fail, you could always do a resit." She shrugged a shoulder.

I slumped.

"I appreciate the reassurance."

I was silent the rest of the way to Emily's. Her house was grand, but not in a fancy way. It was within a cluster of trees and away from the main road. Yeah, sure, she had a large gateway to drive through and about ten acres of wood around her, but she never boasted about it. Her dad was in business, very high in the ladder, although I had no clue what he did especially. I just knew he was important, I reminded myself to ask someday.

The structure of the building was old-fashioned, dark mahogany and the odd yellow brick here and there, with large paned windows and a dark black door. A shining gold roaring lion was the door knock, foreshadowing what lay beyond.

Emily and I got out her car and opened the front door, only to be swathed by a pack of wolves. Within minutes, I had scratches all over my arms.

When Mrs Quinn died, Elijah knew he needed another sort of companion, so bought four dogs. A bull terrier, a Siberian husky, and two Labradors, one golden, the other black. Each were boisterous and lovely, though the golden lab, Diego, had quite the attitude.

Bending to their level, I clapped them each separately, as Emily dumped her rucksack on the hall bench and then approached the living room.

The inside of the house was far more light and open, and very normal, considering how daunting the outside could look sometimes. The ceiling was high and the floorboards were covered in scratches and it smelled clean. Not new, not polished, just nice and clean. It also hurt your eyes to look around sometimes, the hallway was slightly too white, but the walls were adorned in pictures of Emily and her parents, some of the dogs as well. The living room wasn't much different, it had the necessities and a large purple rug, going well with the black boxed-in walls and leather couch.

So yeah, it was nowhere near as lavish as one would immediately perceive it to be.

Elijah was sitting on the sofa, leg propped up on his knee, his Cookie Monster socks on full show.

I smiled.

He could be described as handsome, if inspected close enough. His hair was always neat and healthy, thick sandy brown strands falling to his forehead. He'd multiple laugh lines around his mouth and cheeks, having gone through years of love and nurture, and eyes that had seen so much yet never broke despite all of the fighting. So dark yet so bright, they only really ever lit up properly if he discussed gardening.

He normally finished work before we did school, so his tie was loosened to his chest and his shirt crumpled in places. He had a glass of whisky in his hands.

Also, normal.

"Hey Dad, Anya said she'd help with the shed." Emily planted a kiss on his cheek then sat down, staring at his drink. I mentally scolded her.

He smiled at me.

"Thanks Anya, I appreciate it."

I shrugged. "It's no bother, really."

Tipping his glass to me, he shot the rest of it. Then got up and made way to the table with the rest of the alcohol. He poured two more glasses of tequila. It was Emily's favorite.

We took them and followed him out back, eager to finish the shed as soon as possible. I noticed Emily picked up the bottle, claiming it was the only way she would get through the night.

The garden was extravagant, with Greyhound-shaped hedges surrounding the fences, flower beds (especially tulips) that were endless, and a pool in the middle. There was also a massive barbecue on the porch, facing all of it. The steps down were small, but the stairs up to felt like forever. The shed was in the far-off left, half-complete.

"I'm going to need you, honey," He grabbed Emily by her forearm and dragged her inside the shed, putting her in the center. "Keep the pillars up, while Anya and I work our magic. Okay?"

She was clearly bored already but nodded.

He turned to me, that smile beaming like a thousand watts. And I suddenly remembered what it was like to be fourteen again.

While we hammered, sawed and bled out our sweat, I couldn't help noticing Mr Quinn once again. He'd always loved working on the garden, in any way to improve it, and I could see it. Nature was his first love. He enjoyed every minute of building this shed, even if it meant putting us through torture, and himself, by having to listen to our girl talk.

We finished by the back of seven. Emily was shattered and half-drunk out of her face due to all that tequila. We had to help her into bed, which was a struggle. Quite. She wouldn't stop pulling at our clothes and thinking she was a bird. Evidently, she wasn't, but I didn't want to ruin her drunk dreams.

Her dad took off her shoes as I placed a bucket next to her bed. She was rambling on, practically ineligibly, but her father smiled all the way until she was done.

He went to leave when she called us back.

"I demand...!" She paused. Then, a second later, hiccupped. When it became continuous, she began laughing. I also resisted, it was infectious.

"KISSES! I want them!"

Snorting, I went over to her and planted a big wet one on her mouth. Within moments, she was giggling like the little schoolgirl she was. She pushed me off gently, almost toppling out onto the floor.

"No, bad Anya... Daddy, bedtime kisses!"

Elijah did kiss her, firmly on the forehead, told her to get to sleep then ushered me out the room with him. When I looked back, she was smiling into her cloud of pillows. I hoped she'd dream happy.

So, that left me and Mr Quinn. We hadn't been in the same room alone, just the two of us, since I was a young teenager.

We stood outside of her door, neither knowing what to say or do. It was too late to do any gardening and, since we both had as big of a passion for it, it was usually the driving topic for our conversations.

"Are you staying? Some of your things are still there from last time." He meant the guest bedroom, which was technically mine anyway.

"If you don't mind..."

He shook his head, that smile coming back again. "Of course not. You're family."

It was weird to remember that I had known him and Emily since I was five. His wife and my dad were good friends, had enrolled and graduated from the same college and then continued to work in the same firm. So, when they each got married and had children, it was only normal to arrange meet-ups and be friends as one.

I didn't hear much from my dad these days. At first, after the separation, he called at least once a week to check up on me, then would have me stay at his for the weekend. That stopped when I turned fifteen. I figured that he either forgot about me or had found himself another way to keep himself occupied.

I didn't mind, because I always had another family. Emily's. Mrs Quinn always made me hot milk and let me eat all of the candy, since her daughter had been banned since, forever. Her husband talked to me about growing seeds and got me interested in plants of my own. For the past two years, he and I had found something of similar interest, out of all the twelve I'd known him for. Odd how we'd only started getting friendly then, considering he and I sometimes could talk for hours about the outdoors.

I guess good things do indeed come to those who wait.